


Líonaigí'n oíche le greann is le spórt

by lanyon



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, weapons-grade fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony and Clint believe that Steve and Bucky have been forced out against their will (until it emerges that Steve and Bucky were never actively trying to hide their relationship).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Líonaigí'n oíche le greann is le spórt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Renne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/gifts).



> This birthday fic for **Renne** is an embarrassing three months late. For shame. Based on a prompt she provided, that apparently took this long to percolate. Lots of love to you.  
>  While this touches on the concept of forced coming-out, neither Steve nor Bucky ever intended to be in the closet.  
> Title from Bear McCreary's _Wander My Friends_ ( _Siúlaigí a chairde_ ), the translation of which is _fill the night with joy and sport_.

_Captain America Caught With His Pants Down_.

Tony pushes his shades up onto his head. Why he’s wearing them inside is anyone’s guess. “Seriously, am I reading this right?” He looks around the room. Natasha is hanging over Clint’s shoulder, jabbing at his laptop and muttering, “Scroll down, scroll down. Stop! Go back. Is that?”

“Yes,” says Clint. “Definitely. That’s definitely Barnes.” 

Tony peers over Clint’s other shoulder and lets out a low whistle. “I hate to say it but I gotta say it. T’challa’s done great work in making that arm look like a normal arm.”

“Honestly?” says Clint. “I’m more concerned with what that arm’s doing.”

“Oh. Right.”

P

“So,” says Natasha. “Barnes and Rogers. Rogers and Barnes.”

“Whatever way you slice it, it still sounds more like a comedy duo than, like, a great romance.” 

.

He feels, rather than hears, Bucky’s laughter beneath his palms. 

Bucky turns his head to the side and squints up at Steve through one eye. “You gonna just sit on my ass all day or are you gonna rub that lotion in?”

“Seems kinda unfair that we can still get sunburn,” says Steve. “Even if it doesn’t last long.”

“Still hurts like hell, though,” says Bucky. “So get to it.”

Steve leans down and presses a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck before squeezing more lotion onto his hand and rubbing it into the expanse of warm, if not unblemished, skin of Bucky’s back. 

.

 

“What are we going to do?”

“Do, Tony?” asks Pepper. “Do we have to _do_ anything? Acknowledging the photographs at all will legitimise them.”

“Can’t we just say that it’s clearly a pair of over-eager cosplayers?”

“ _Tony_. It’s not our place to intervene, especially when Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are away.”

.

“You’re a funny guy,” says Bucky, glaring at Steve. The glare would pack a greater punch if Bucky’s hand wasn’t resting on top of Steve’s on the bar, his thumb grazing over Steve’s wrist, back and forth as though glorying in that steady, stately pulse.

“Well, I told you if you were late, I was gonna order you the pinkest, gaudiest, umbrella-iest cocktail they had.” 

Bucky’s scowl deepens until he sips his drink. “Huh. It’s not bad. Ah-ah.” He curls over his cocktail protectively. “You’re not getting any.”

“Oh yes I am,” says Steve, and he leans in to touch his lips to Bucky’s.  
.

“Hill. Hill. _Hill._ **Hill.** ”

“Mr Stark, I will quit on the spot, I swear to god.”

“How _do_ you solve a problem like Maria? I’ve always wondered.”

“I hate you, Mr Stark.”

“Join the club. We meet on Wednesdays. My place. Bring a friend.” Tony perches on the edge of Maria’s desk and she levels him with a look of pure loathing.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Stark?”

“Where are Manny and Sid?”

To Maria’s credit, she doesn’t even blink. “On vacation.”

.

The bed is huge, which is just as well because they’re both big men, but it’s also round, which makes it hard for both of them to stretch out comfortably. There’s a nightly scuffle over who gets to be the big spoon and the one time Steve suggested they go top to toe ended, predictably, in a fierce mutual blow-job competition and Bucky declaring that sixty-nine was his new favourite position for everything.

.

“They’re on _vacation_?” Clint stares at Tony. 

“That’s what _I_ said.”

“They’re not on a super-secret mission?”

“That’s what I said _too_.”

“So they’re on vacation, somewhere undisclosed, and they’ve been outed. Very publicly. In every media outlet.” Clint looks thoughtful. “We gotta call in the big guns.”

.

“Do you think anyone recognises us?” asks Steve, peering over the top of his book. Everyone else lounging by the pool appears just as lethargic as Bucky, who has a straw boater lying on top of his face to keep off the worst of the noon heat. 

“Do we care if they do?” 

“Good point,” says Steve, reaching for Bucky’s hand and kissing his fingertips and knowing that he’s smiling.

.

Sam Wilson doesn’t close the door in their faces but it’s a close-run thing. 

“Gentlemen,” he says. “Are you lost?”

“We’re looking for two escapees from the care home. We think they may have tunnelled out?”

Sam closes the door in their faces. They probably deserve it.

.

Steve never thought he’d enjoy a vacation this much. Having Bucky with him certainly helps. Bucky’s reclining in a giant rubber ring near the pool bar, with a suspiciously pink-looking cocktail in his hand. His boater is on his head and his skin is glistening with pool water and sweat and Steve heart swells with an emotion he’s only too glad to identify and admit to. 

“Your boyfriend’s awfully cute,” says the waitress who’s bringing over a bar receipt for Steve to sign to their room. 

“He is,” says Steve, with some satisfaction. “I think I’ll keep him.” 

“You two together a while?”

Steve nods. “Feels like a hundred years, sometimes, and two months, other times.”

The waitress laughs. “Yeah, I know that feeling. Enjoy the rest of your stay with us, sir.”

.

“Agent Carter, don’t slam the door in our face,” says Clint, desperately. Tony’s agreed not to speak this time.

“Give me a compelling reason not to.”

“Well, it’s just that it looks like Cap’s been outed and we were wondering how you feel about beards.” 

Sharon doesn’t slam the door, at least, but there’s something forceful and inexorable in how she closes it.

.

“I don’t want to go home.”

“That’s the thing about vacations, Buck. They gotta end.”

“No. I refuse to be shackled by the expectations of others.”

Steve noses at the fall of hair over Bucky’s cheek. “I promise that we can book another vacation when we get home but I get the feeling there’s music to be faced.”

Bucky sits up and points a trembling finger at Steve. “You’ve been reading newspapers, haven’t you?”

Steve’s mouth drops open but he doesn’t deny it (and neither does he ask how Bucky knows what he’s talking about).

.

Tony knocks on the door of Cap’s Williamsburg apartment. Then he hammers on it. Then he contemplates using a repulsor.

“Just what are you doing, young man?” asks a tremulous voice. 

A four-foot nothing lady, whose face is wreathed with the most numerous and labyrinthine wrinkles Tony has ever seen, is pointing her finger at him. “You leave those nice young men alone.”

“It’s just. We think they might be in some trouble, ma’am.”

“The only trouble they’ll get round here is young hooligans like you creating a ruckus. This is a nice neighbourhood, I’ll have you know. Mr Barnes carries out my trash, I’ll have you know, and if you’re here to give him grief about his relationship with that nice Rogers boy, I’ll set my grandson on you.”

Clint blinks at Tony, who blinks at him, and they both stare at the old lady. 

“And little Tommy’s captain of the varsity heavyweight wrestling team _and_ secretary of his high school LGBTQ society.” 

“Right. Ma’am. We’re sorry, we just-”

“We’re just leaving, is what we’re doing,” says Clint, clamping his hand over Tony’s mouth. 

“And good riddance!” shouts the old lady. 

.

“I’m just saying that it’s a long flight,” says Bucky. 

“We are not joining the Mile High Club, Bucky,” says Steve. His lips twitch. “Let’s save it for the newest Helicarrier.”

“I love you,” sighs Bucky, wrapping his hand around Steve’s arm and resting his head on Steve’s shoulder. 

A boy of about eight stands in the aisle and stares at them. 

“Hey, kid,” says Steve. “Can I help you?”

“You- you’re Captain America, aren’t you? And Bucky Barnes?”

Steve nods. “We sure are.”

“That is _awesome_ ,” says the boy. “I can’t wait to tell my moms. I _told_ them I saw you get on the plane. Can I have your autographs?” 

.

“So, I heard that Captain America and his sidekick live around here somewhere,” says Tony, attempting to be subtle and succeeding like napalm.

“Yeah, they come in here a lot,” says the barrista. He folds his arms. “You’re not here to give them any trouble, are you? Like I told the other reporters, they’re great customers and they help us fundraise for the local community centre. You’re not gonna get anyone badmouthing them ‘round these parts.”

.

They go to Stark Tower first because Sharon and Sam both texted to say that Tony and Clint are idiots. 

“So. You guys are together?” asks Tony.

“Yes,” says Steve. 

“And everybody knows.”

“Yes,” says Bucky. 

“And it’s no big deal.”

Steve pulls himself up to his full height, which Bucky always enjoys. “It’s a big deal to kids who feel unable to come out and who maybe want role models but to us? Personally? No. We’ve not hidden who we are since Bucky came back.”

“I guess it explains the smack-wallop-kiss-kiss in DC,” says Tony, slowly. 

“Wait,” says Clint. “How did we not _know_?”

“Hiding in plain sight,” says Bucky, slinging his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Time to go back to spy school, Barton?”

.

“So,” says Tony. “That time on that AIM undercover mission when they were making out in tuxedos on the dancefloor?”

“Not an authorised part of the mission, no, sir,” says Hill. 

“Huh,” says Tony, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Who knew?”

“Everyone except you, sir.”


End file.
